Go To Sleep Mr Eames
by KeepCalmAndKeepWriting
Summary: Eames takes a bullet for Arthur while on a job. Arthur scolds him for it.


"Oh for fuck's sake- my day _cannot_ get any worse," muttered Eames, ducking down behind a car in the middle of the street as bullets rained down around him.

The extraction had **not **gone well.It had been an absolute nightmare getting here-pursued by a less-than-happy subconscious and they were _finally_ outside the large stately bank where the Passcode was _sure_ to be stored, when the militarised projections had caught up with them. And now Eames was out of ammunition.

"A little bit over-dramatic Eames," Arthur commented disdainfully, as he joined Eames behind the car, breathing heavily.

Eames turned around to grin at him. "Ah- nice of you to turn up darling," he said, leaning forward and taking Arthur's spare hand-gun from his waist.

Arthur glowered at him indignantly for a brief moment. Eames had utterly no awareness for his personal space. Actually, Eames didn't seem to be aware of the _existence_ of such a thing as personal space.

Eames noticed Arthur's glare, but chose to ignore it, instead positioning the gun on top of the car bonnet they were behind, and shooting down 3 projections.

"Nice shot, if I say so myself," he congratulated himself, and Arthur shot him a withering look. They sat in silence for a minute, but then the projections started firing again.

"Where's Cobb?" Arthur asked distractedly, as he dodged a flurry of bullets.

"Ah, well- you see, poor chap took a bullet to the leg, so I put him out of his misery..." Eames confessed, watching Arthur carefully.

"You woke him up?" Arthur stared. Eames had surely lost the plot.

"What else was I supposed to do? He was in _agony_," Eames said defensively.

"But he was the only one who knew the layout of the bank!" Arthur groaned, frustrated.

"Not my bloody problem no-one told _me_ that..." Eames grumbled, before twisting around to shoot several more projections.

Arthur sat, speechless, then shook his head in disbelief, and moved around in front of Eames to get a better position at shooting.

Eames glanced at him. "Arthur, considering our present situation, I don't think that's the best place to be..." he told him, frowning slightly. Arthur was much too out in the open.

"Keep quiet and keep shooting-we need to get in there before time runs out," Arthur told him firmly, eyes trained on the bank.

"All the same darling..." Eames knew Arthur wasn't listening to him, but suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a black figure appear at the window of the building directly opposite. A figure raising a sniper rifle to the window ledge. And Arthur was right in the projection's eye-line.

"Bloody imbecile" Eames muttered, and swiftly put his arm around Arthur's waist, yanking him onto the pavement behind the car, the momentum causing him to half-fall in the place Arthur had been seconds earlier. Arthur's yelp of protest was blinded by agonising pain, as the sniper's bullet found Eames' shoulder.

Eames slumped down against the car door, gripping his shoulder tightly, his eyes clenched shut against the pain.

"What the _fuck_ was that-,"Arthur stopped short, taking in Eames' face, his rapidly bloodying hand.

"Oh shit," he breathed.

"My thoughts exactly," Eames managed, "And you better be bloody grateful, cause I'm pretty sure that bullet was for you."

Arthur ran his hand through his hair, messing it up in his distraction. Eames allowed himself a grin. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but love Arthur when he was so rumpled and concerned.

"Don't worry darling, it's not my shooting arm..." Eames told Arthur fondly, reaching for his forgotten gun, but recoiling suddenly as pain shot through his entire body. A firm hand caught his shoulder, pressing him back against the door.

Eames leant back, taking quick shallow breaths.

"Don't even think about it you idiot- take it easy," said Arthur gently, giving Eames a small smile.

"Can't blame me...can you? Someone's gotta...look out for you," Eames managed dryly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Says the dying man-" Eames instantly made to protest indignantly, but Arthur cut him off."I can look after myself Mr. Eames, honestly. That was very gallant of you, but completely unnecessary."

Eames frowned, and grumbled under his breath something about being "bloody un-grateful."

Arthur chuckled lightly, shaking his head. Eames hadn't noticed, but while he'd been talking, Arthur's hands had replaced his own applying pressure on his shoulder. The pain was lessened somewhat.

Eames glanced at Arthur's hands briefly, covered in his own blood, before looking up at the Point-man's face. Arthur was focused on keeping an even pressure on the wound with both of his hands.

"Deny...you wouldn't have done...the same," Eames rasped huskily, watching Arthur's eyes intently.

Arthur glanced up to meet his gaze. He smiled slightly, and for a moment, Eames thought he might _finally _have gotten through to him- but no, of course he hadn't, because Arthur's adorable smile was turning into an-all-too-familiar-smirk.

"Of course I wouldn't you ass; it was an irrational, impulsive and completely illogical decision."

Eames sighed dramatically. "Well- I guess seeing as I'm such an idiotic, whim-driven arse, why don't you get a move on and go get the passcode then?"

"I can't..." Arthur started frowning.

"-leave me here on my own some to die slowly and painfully?" suggested Eames with a grin.

Arthur shot him a contemptuous look.

"No- you are needed to forge into the chief security guard. And I'm not so cruel as to try and force you to move in your condition. The job's over," he said firmly.

"Ah- some compassion! At last!" cried Eames, in mock astonishment, before wincing slightly at the exertion.

Arthur sighed, exasperated.

"I'm not quite as un-emotional as you give me credit for Eames," Arthur told him, applying more pressure to the steadily bleeding wound, and frowning slightly as Eames gritted his teeth at the pain, "sorry," he added quietly.

"Yeah well... we can beg to differ on that," Eames muttered, but now it was becoming difficult to breathe, and the pain was clouding his vision. His eyes slipped shut.

"NO- Eames, you have to stay awake, we can't go back to early-" Arthur was telling him urgently, but as he was talking, Edith Piath began to fill the air around them, a distant, echo of music.

"About...bloody time," Eames whispered, and reached for his gun. He got a grip on it, but his hand shook so violently it slipped from his fingers, and he groaned in annoyance.

Arthur's bloodied hand swiftly picked it up for him, and he brought the barrel round to Eames' temple.

"Make...it quick, please darling..."

"Go to sleep Mr. Eames," said Arthur with a smile, before pulling the trigger.


End file.
